


Blood And Sand

by Beserk



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: AU: The Wild West, Daddy Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21560854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beserk/pseuds/Beserk
Summary: "Maybe he was a bounty hunter?""What kind of bounty hunter would try to kill me in the middle of a salon full of other men, which would absolutely bring the deputies and sheriff here," Homelander pointed at the bodies of said deputies and sheriff."Then maybe he just hates you," Maeve shrugged. "You sure you didn't recognize him?""I'm sure.""Well, maybe you killed someone he knew, or raped his wife or something.""Yeah," Homelander snorted. That was very plausible.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Homelander, Billy Butcher/The Homelander | John
Comments: 24
Kudos: 223





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【授翻】Blood And Sand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629291) by [kikiokikio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikiokikio/pseuds/kikiokikio)



They were in the one salon of a small, insignificant town. Homelander was sitting at the poker table, playing while underneath a whore blew him. She'd been working on him for nearly an hour, but wasn't getting anywhere.

It was frustrating, but not surprising. He hadn't been able to get hard from things like that for years. Like with everything else, he now needed adrenaline and pumping excitement rushing through him. God, it had been far to long since he'd had a good fuck. He'd probably take the girl up to his room once the game was over. Enough people seemed to recognize the Seven gang that he was relatively sure that he'd be undisturbed if they heard screams coming up from the room.

Homelander clicked his tongue and threw his cards on the table, "Four of a kind."

Two of the three other men sitting around the table stared at him, and he could see the fear in their eyes. But then the man sitting in front of him snorted and put his own cards down. He had a straight flush.

For the first time since the game started, Homelander looked at the man closely. He hadn't really paid attention to the other players when he'd sat down. They were insignificant, unimportant. The game of poker was a power move he and his Seven gang liked to play. It showed the diners that they were relaxed, that they weren't scared of anyone, and also- when they won- that they couldn't be fooled. Deep was doing the same thing a few tables away, while Starlight leaned against his chair, distracting the other players with her beautiful looks and…ample chest. She was good at doing that, now.

When she'd first joined them, she'd been sweet and kind and didn't enjoy the killing and stealing and pain that came with their line of work. Such a pretty and innocent little thing that Deep had found in a farm far away from any town. He'd killed her mother and taken the girl, not the first and probably not the last. But she was the only one who had survived them, more or less intact, and had joined their ranks. She wasn't a good fuck now that she'd stopped fighting, but having two beautiful girls in the gang was still incredibly useful at times. And she _was_ beautiful, sometimes it was nice just to look at her.

But at that moment he wasn't looking at Starlight or at Maeve (the Queen was somewhere behind him), he was looking at the man sitting in front of him. It was hard to see his opponent's face due to his cowboy hat, but Homelander could tell that he had a sharp and stubbled jaw, and long nose. His body was strong and muscled under the rugged and patched up clothes he was wearing. He'd clearly just come out of the desert, if the dust and sand on his clothes were any indication.

Homelander looked down at both of their hands of cards. The man had cheated, and he'd cheated much better than Homelander had.

He grabbed the whore's blond hair and pulled her away from his dick. The girl yelped in pain and the three other players jumped up in fear. The winner, though, stayed in place, and Homelander watched his lips quirk up in amusement.

Homelander shoved the poker pieces and cards off the table and glared, "You cheated."

The man shrugged, "You bloody cheated as well, mate."

Homelander had never heard that accent before. This man was clearly not from around here. Homelander himself came from New York, which was far enough away, but this man…he was from much, much further away.

"I just cheated better," The man added. He leaned backwards on his chair, so that even more of his face was hidden from view, and placed his chin on his clenched fist. His body was relaxed and calm, but Homelander could tell that the stance was misleading. He knew that way of holding your body, from personal experience. He was as prepared as he possibly could be.

"Hmm," Homelander clicked his tongue, putting a hand discreetly on his gun belt. "Fair p-"

The shot went off while Homelander was starting to take his own gun out.

It hit the wall behind Homelander as he ducked out of the way. He'd just managed to see the man take out his gun at the nick of time. Homelander breathed out, that was closer than he'd gotten to having his head blown off in years. This man- this man was a quick shot.

He could feel his dick twitching, and grinned. He was feeling more turned on then the half-hour blow job had gotten him, and twisted around on the floor as a second shot went off, hitting the ground where his chest had lay only half a second earlier.

Homelander jumped up and shot his own guns, one after the other. But by the time the gun powder had disappeared from the air, he realized that the man was no longer in his seat. Without a moment to lose, Homelander turned around, searching the salon. People had started taking their guns out, and it was clear that a shoot-out was about to break out in the salon.

"Where is he?" Homelander snapped, looking around. He couldn't find the man, and snapped again, "Where is he?"

"Homelander," Maeve rushed over to him, Starlight at her heals. Both girls were taking out their own guns, raising them in preparation. "What happened? I thought we decided we'd have a calm night!"

"Shut up," Homelander sneered, which made Starlight flinch in fear. "I didn't draw first."

"And I'm sure you did nothing to encourage that, hmm?" Maeve glared at him. "God, sometimes I want to slap you."

"And sometimes, dear Queen, I want to cut up your face," But he didn’t really mean it. Maeve was special, she was the only person who told him the truth. There was no way he would ever give that up. Even if she wasn't a good fuck anymore, she still had that going for her.

Maeve snorted, and then the Seven gang killed the salon patrons.

*

"That's all of them," Deep said cautiously, coming up to Homelander, who was sitting by the salon's piano, playing a dreary tone. Homelander turned and looked at the last dead man that Deep had dragged up to the rest of the bodies. "Um…is that the man you're looking for?"

Homelander tilted his head, looking at the man, "No. His clothes were different, and he didn't have a missing fucking arm, _Kevin_."

Deep jumped back in fear at the sound of his first name, "Right, right. Sorry, um, I should have known that. Sorry-"

"Shut up, Deep," Maeve snapped and shoved Deep away. "Go back to looking for valuables."

The young man looked at Homelander, which made Maeve stiffen. Homelander smirked at her annoyance. Deep, A-Train, Starlight, Translucent and Noir (where _was_ Noir? He'd been gone for hours) only listened to him. They knew who, between Maeve and Homelander, would kill them in the more painful way.

"Go," Homelander waved Deep away. "Do what Mommy says."

"Cute," Maeve sat on top of the piano, folding her long legs, as Deep sprung away. Homelander raised his eyebrow at the sight of her attractive thigh in front of his face. God, she wasn't hoping they'd fuck, was she? He didn't think he could do it. Literally. And no fucking way was he letting her embarrass him like that. Not again, at least.

"He got away," Homelander said, musingly.

"Does it matter?" Maeve tilted her head down at him, red hair tickling his nose. He grabbed it and used it to shove her away. Maeve hissed in pain but persisted, adding, "So one person out of fifty isn't dead-"

"The one person I wanted dead isn't," Homelander pointed out, gritting his teeth. "And I don't want people that try to kill me to be alive."

"Point taken," Maeve raised an eyebrow. "By the way, you never told me why this guy tried to kill you?"

"I cheated at poker, he cheated better," Homelander replied. Maeve was the only person close enough to hear him, so he could voice that kind of weakness. "And then he tried to shoot me."

"That…seems like an overreaction."

"People start shootouts for stupider reasons," Homelander replied, remembering a time that A-Train had started a shootout because someone won a race against him. Why the stupid black-fuck had thought it was a good idea to start a race while they were resting was beyond Homelander.

"Yeah, but not against the most notorious gang in the West," Maeve frowned. "Maybe he was a bounty hunter?"

"What kind of bounty hunter would try to kill me in the middle of a salon full of other men, which would absolutely bring the deputies and sheriff here," Homelander pointed at the bodies of said deputies and sheriff.

"Then maybe he just hates you," Maeve shrugged. "You sure you didn't recognize him?"

"I'm sure."

"Well, maybe you killed someone he knew, or raped his wife or something."

"Yeah," Homelander snorted. That was very plausible. 

*

"There's someone following us," Starlight said as she came to sit next to Homelander in front of the fire. Homelander froze with a spoon full of beans half way to his mouth. He sighed and put the can of beans down, whipping his mouth.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Starlight nodded and tucked a strand of blond hair back behind her ear. "I waited until I was sure. He's been following us on horseback for two days. He's a few hours away."

"Bounty hunter," Homelander sighed and rubbed his eyes. God, he didn't have energy for this shit. The last two weeks, since the shootout at the salon, had been fucking shit. They'd taken over a bank and took money, and Homelander had spent nearly three hours with the bank worker he'd taken from there. They boy had been ridiculously pretty, with bright eyes and blond hair, and he'd fought, kicking and screaming and crying. And he'd bled so nicely over his marble-white skin. But it hadn't helped, Homelander had stayed as flaccid as ever.

"Probably," Starlight shrugged her shoulders, and Homelander looked at the skin of her exposed neck. It had been so clean and pure, once. Now it was full of scars, scars from knives and whips and from the ropes they'd put around her neck to leave her dangling until she reached the verge of death. He wondered, if he tried, could he fuck her? It was probably worth trying at some point. "What do you want us to do?"

"Take positions on the hills, but don't shoot him," Killing bounty hunters were one of his favorite things to do. He's not letting any of the others the satisfaction.

They take their positions, hiding behind rocks, trees and bushes, with Homelander in the middle, with a telescope on his eyes to look. He could see the horse rushing up towards their mountain, it's rider leaning down over it's neck. As they got closer, Homelander's eyes widened.

Rugged clothes, stubbled and sharp jaw, long nose.

It was the man from the salon.

"No one kill him," Homelander ordered, and then took his gun out. He waited until the man was right underneath the mountain and then jumped out from behind the bush where he'd been hiding, and shot, bringing the horse down.

The animal let out a dying shriek, falling to the ground and trapping the man underneath it. Homelander smirked, ducking in time to avoid being shot in the head by the gunman-possible-bounty-hunter under the horse. He quickly made his way to the other side of the horse, and before the man could tell where Homelander was, Homelander jumped out and grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it, making the gun fall out of his hand and then kicking it out of the way.

Once that was done, and he had the man's wrist in his hold, Homelander settled down on top of the horse, which made the man hiss out as the added weight on him. And then he realized that he was half hard and he was awash with adrenaline.

The man under him had buzzed black hair and blue eyes. Stunning blue eyes that were practically _oozing_ hatred and fury. No wonder Homelander was getting aroused. Those beautiful blue eyes…he was sure they would look absolutely breathtaking full of fear instead of hatred. He wanted that. He was going to get that.

"What's your name, buddy?"

The man replied by trying to punch Homelander with his free hand. But trapped as he was, he couldn't get any momentum going, and Homelander could easily catch his fist with his free hand and now he had both of his wrists trapped, and pulled them over his head, leaning in.

"What's your name, handsome?" He purred into the man's ear. His prisoner growled, and Homelander could feel it reverberating through his chest where it connected with his pretty boy (He was probably around Homelander's age, to be fair. But he was Homelander's pretty boy from now on.).

"Homelander-" Homelander turned to see Maeve rushing towards him. "Kill him already."

That didn't seem to have any effect on the man. That wasn't unimpressive.

"Hi, Maeve?" Homelander asked, absentminded, watching his boy grit his teeth and try to wiggle out of Homelander's hold. Not that that will do him any good, he was still under a dead horse. "Can you get me a rock?"

"I'm gonna bloody kill you," The black-haired man promised, and Homelander nodded solemnly right before Maeve wacked his boy over the head with a rock, sending him down into unconsciousness.

Homelander sighed and stepped off the horse and clicked his tongue at Maeve, "That's not what I asked."

Maeve raised her eyebrow, "You weren't going to do that yourself?"

"Yeah, I fucking was," Homelander sneered. "I didn't want _you_ doing it."

The red-head rolled her eyes and raised her hands in mock surrender, "All right, all right, sorry. You wanna take him up to the camp site?"

Homelander shook his head, "No. I'm going to need more time with him. Let's take him to a farmhouse."

There's less chance that others would hear his boy scream there.


	2. Chapter 2

They found a farmhouse about an hour ride away from their campsite. Homelander took Maeve and A-Train to kill its inhabitants and throw them into the weeds in the back and then Homelander carried his boy into the farmhouse's bedroom and laid him down on the bed.

The black-haired man's head lolled back, exposing his long and unmarked neck. Homelander hummed in appreciation and leaned down, running his fingers through the man's hair. It was coarse and rough, not at all like Starlight's long and silky golden curls. Which meant that the man wasn't a soft and sweet creature, as if Homelander had needed more proof. He was a fighter. He would fight.

Homelander hadn't been this excited in years.

He took out a pair of cuffs from his satchel and secured his pretty boy to the bedposts. Tight enough that there was no chance he'd escape once he woke up. As he attached his right wrist to the bed, the black-haired man began groaning, eyes fluttering open, and Homelander jumped on the bed, putting himself right in front of the man's slowly opening eyes.

"Welcome back, baby," Homelander grinned. "Sleep well?"

The man glared, and then started fighting.

"Wow, wow there!" Homelander grabbed the man's legs and promptly sat on them, watching as the man tried to get to him using his upper body. Which was a bit hard, given that his upper body was entirely incapacitated.

But Homelander's boy was clearly smart, and he stopped fighting as soon as he realized that it wasn't going to get him anywhere. Instead he stilled, relaxing against the bed and glaring up at Homelander, and Homelander could see the gears in his mind shifting, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

He was going to make sure the man didn't get that.

"So," Homelander said, sifting his weight a bit so he was on top of the man's lap, grinding ever so slightly into his dick. His clearly very, very flaccid dick. Unlike Homelander's own, which was getting a bit excited. "We need to talk."

"D'we?" The man tilted his head slightly, watching Homelander carefully. The amount of absolute loathing in his eyes was the stuff orgasms was made of.

"I think we do," Homelander sighed, rubbing his ass slightly over the man's dick again. The man let out a tiny little gasp that he quickly forced back into his mouth. "I looked at the contents of your pockets, found your ID. You're a policeman, aren't you? From London."

"Well, seems you know everything you need to know," The man sneered.

"I know," Homelander continued, ignoring him. "That your name is William 'Billy' Butcher, that you're thirty-five years old, that you're from London. What I _don't_ know is why you're in the West, and why you've been trying to kill me. Don't you know who I am?"

"I know," Billy echoed. "I know you're John Vogelbaum, that you're thirty-three, a bloody killer and thief and that I will feed you your own cock and arse-hole before I blow your bloody head off."

"Oh, you really hate me, don’t you?" Homelander clicked his tongue, trying to hide how unnerving he truly found the fact that Billy knew his birth name. He hadn't used it in years, had made sure no one in his gang used their birth names, either. He didn’t want a reminder of his father, of the dark and cold rooms where he'd been raised. "Why?"

"That ain't none of your business."

"Ah…I'm pretty sure it is," Homelander clicked his tongue, still moving his ass in circles over Billy's dick. He could feel his boy's member start to pick up interest in what was happening around him and grinned inwardly. "Since you tried to kill me because of it, and since it got you in this wonderful position."

But Billy just glared at him, and Homelander shrugged.

"Well, I thought you'd give in easy," He hadn’t, but whatever. "Let's get started then. So. You tell me why you want to kill me, and I'll let you come."

"I don't bloody need your bloody permission to come," Billy nearly yelled. That seemed to annoy him more then the tying him up part. "And I don't-"

"Bloody need to come," Homelander tried to copy Billy's accent. He wasn't successful, even he could admit it. "Not yet, anyways. But don't worry, I'll get you there."

The only reaction he got out of that was an attempt to bite Homelander's nose off.

God, his baby boy was marvelous, he could already tell.

*

It was annoyingly difficult to get Billy's pants and underwear off. He squirmed like an eel and kicked like an especially angry horse. Homelander got wacked in the face more then once, and a few times in the neck as well. But he persevered, and eventually his boy was bare to his greedy eyes.

"Look at you, my little baby," Homelander purred, looking at Billy's flaccid dick. His skin was pale and white, and his dick was relatively small for a man his size. Homelander was glad for that, though. Who wanted a baby with a big dick? "Aren't you beautiful?"

"Stop bloody callin' me that," Billy growled, trying again to kick Homelander as the blond man took hold of his legs and shoved them up, exposing his little pink hole.

"But you're my baby," Homelander grinned, wrapping a long line of rope around Billy's ankles and shoving them up into the air. "And Daddy's going to take _such_ good care of you."

When he heard that, Billy froze. Grew completely still.

"The bloody _fuck_ did you just say?" He screamed. Actually screamed, loud enough that Homelander was quite sure the Seven members lounging around the farmhouse could hear him. Eh. They were about to hear _much_ more interesting noises.

"I said, 'Daddy will take good care of you'," Homelander repeated, and leaned down next to Billy's hole. "He's going to make you so, so hard. Tell me, Billy, ever been rimmed?"

"Fuck off," Billy replied.

"Don't curse, baby boy," Homelander scolded, anticipating and enjoyed the furious growl he got in response.

Homelander licked his lower lip and ducked down, lapping at Billy's hole. He tasted so good, he tasted like fucking heaven.

And clearly, Billy had never, ever, been rimmed. Homelander could tell from the surprised yelp that came out of Billy's mouth. His baby tried to move away from the tongue, but, caught as he was, it just made his ass wiggle slightly. And Homelander used that wiggle to insert his tongue a bit deeper.

"M'-m'gonna kill you," Billy gasped, and Homelander hummed in response, caressing Billy's thigh absent mindly as he dived in deeper. Homelander loved the taste of Billy's ass. It was musky and sweet and reminded him of the desert. Clearly, Billy had been in the West for a while.

"No, you're not," Homelander said, detaching his mouth from Billy's ass. "You can’t, I've got you all tied up, little baby. Now hush, let Daddy get you hard. Stop fighting me."

"I ain't gonna do that," Billy smirked. It's rather impressive how he managed to smirk while clearly struggling to keep his dick down. "I will destroy you, yes?"

"Yes?" Homelander frowned. "No."

He went down again and licked the tip of Billy's cock.

"Bloody hell!"

There. _Now_ they were getting somewhere.

He licked Billy's dick softly, then again, and again, over and over. Homelander was getting hard, his dick twitching and moving excitingly, and he was closer to coming then he'd been in so, so long…

Homelander kept going until Billy was almost entirely hard and whimpering, body shivering and convoluting as he tried to keep hold of himself. His eyes were lustful, but what was even stronger in them was the hatred. God, he hated Homelander so fucking much, and it made Homelander so fucking hard. He wanted to come, probably as desperately as Billy himself wanted to come. He could tell, though, that he'd only come after he got his little boy to give in and tell him why he hates him. That meant that he won't come until he allows Billy to come as well.

"Do you want to come, sweetheart?" Homelander panted, rock hard and painful, slipping two fingers into his mouth, sucking hard to coat it with saliva. "Do you want Daddy to let you come?"

"I-I'm gonna bloody kill you."

"You really need to stop saying that," Homelander sighed. "I mean, you haven't been able to kill me so far-"

"Ain't gotta bloody worry," Homelander watched, eyes widening with lust, as Billy's face grew hard and sharp, like a diamond. And just as precious. "You'll end in a box soon enough."

Homelander shivered slightly. He hadn't even needed to hurt Billy, he didn't need any blood, any screams. He didn’t even need a fight (even though Billy had put up a good one). All he needed to get hard was the hatred in his boy's eyes. It was such a beautiful sight.

"When I die," Homelander hummed, inserting a finger into Billy without any preamble. "It's going to be as an old, old man in bed with you sucking my cock, baby."

Billy gritted his teeth. The sudden penetration must have been painful, even with all of the saliva in his ass. But he barely moved, his expression barely changing, all the pain coiled inside of him hidden deep within, refusing to be let out. His breath hitched as Homelander started moving his finger in and out, slowly. He was so, so hard that he didn't know how much longer he could survive with his sanity in check.

"Just tell me why you hate me," Homelander groaned, his finger engulfed by burning heat. "Tell Daddy why you hate him so much, baby."

"Fuck you!"

"Come on," Homelander groaned, grasping Billy's dick even harder, making sure he can’t come. "Tell me."

"N-"

"Tell me!"

"Bloody fuckin' fine!"

He told him, and they both got to come.

And Homelander had never been so happy in his entire fucking life. He decided to go ahead and do it again.

Then again.

*

Later, when it as over and Billy had fallen asleep, Homelander gently uncuffed his boy from the bed frame and carefully raised him in his arms. Billy was heavy, big strong man that he was. So Homelander was quite pleased to find that, outside, Maeve had already taken out a cart and attached it to the farm's one horse, a small grey thing that would have to be discarded when they needed to move fast. But he was perfect for a light cart that would only carry a tied-up Billy.

Homelander wasn't stupid enough to trust him on a horse. When they took Starlight, she rode on the back of Deep's horse for a few weeks, before being given her own horse. It would take much longer with Billy, he could tell. And if he put him on the back of a horse, he'd drag the other ride down with him to the ground and probably try to beat him to death.

"That took a while," Maeve leaned against the cart as Homelander placed Billy on the cart, careful not to wake him up.

"I was amazing," Homelander grinned, securely cuffing Billy in place. "I came, twice, and I didn't even fuck him."

Maeve frowned and looked down at Billy, "He doesn't look like you really hurt him."

"I didn’t, didn't need to. You should have seen how much he hates me," Homelander sighed. "It's magnificent."

"Hmm, find out why?"

"Oh, yeah," Homelander settled down on the cart. "I raped his wife."

"Told you."

Homelander snorted, "His wife came to New Mexico to see her sister. They'd been living in London, because of Billy's job. Her sister owns a farmhouse, and-"

"We happened to walk by?"

"Billy's wife's sister survived, and sent Billy a letter, letting him know who killed his wife. He took the next boat over here and have been looking for me ever since."

"Charming," Homelander smirked at Maeve's drawl.

"Isn’t he, though?" Homelander smirked and rubbed Billy's forehead as Billy started groaning awake. He was going to have to find him a name, like the rest of the gang. Or maybe he'll let him keep his, just him. Because he was so special. "Let's move out, Maeve."

And they were off.


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you want to eat?" Homelander asked, leaning down in front of Billy. He was tied to a tree, his arms behind him and a cowboy hat on his head. The hat had been stolen from the body of a dead sheriff a few days earlier, after Billy had dropped his own hat on the floor in front of said sheriff, with a note inside letting him know who Homelander had. It had, of course, made a shootout and intense hoserace break out.

Maeve was furious. She'd tied Billy's arms much tighter than she needed to, to the point where there was no way it wasn't painful, though of course Billy hadn't made any complaint. Homelander could tell that she had wanted to beat Billy up, bloody him until there was little white left on his body, only red. But Homelander had been pretty amused by the whole thing. Nearly three months with them, and The Butcher was still fighting them as ferociously as when he first joined.

That was the name Homelander had ended up with. The Butcher. He didn't call Billy that, but he made the others do it. _Billy_ was a far too personal a thing. It belonged to Homelander alone.

Homelander put a piece of bread in his hand and put it in front of Billy's mouth. That was the only way Billy got food or drink these days. Directly from Homelander, his sole provider. It was supposed to make him dependent. So far, it had been…less then effective.

"Come on, you must be starving," Homelander purred, running a hand through Billy's black hair. "You haven’t eaten since we left that last town. You know, the one where you made a shootout start in?"

Billy smirked.

"I don't understand you."

Homelander turned to see Maeve glaring down at him. Her arms were folded under her chest, pushing them up. Homelander wasn't an idiot, he knew that she was doing that on purpose. She'd tried that trick before, when he'd been fascinated with The Deep and ignored Maeve completely. That had lasted for nearly two months, and by the end he'd been so bored with The Deep he couldn't even look at him, and had taken Maeve to bed. He could understand why she thought the same trick would work now, when she was trying to lure him away from Billy.

It wasn't going to work, but he didn’t mind her trying. It made him wonder if maybe he should tie her up as well, maybe force Billy to fuck her? He personally couldn't stand the thought of touching her that way, hadn't for years. But if Billy did it, it might be fun to watch.

That was a bad idea, Homelander realized immediately. Released from his bonds, fucking Maeve would be the last thing on his to-do list. Killing Homelander would be first. Escaping would be second.

"What don’t you understand?" Homelander asked.

"She don't understand why you'd keep me livin'," Billy said, voice as dry as the desert.

Homelander elected not to look at Billy. He could tell, by that voice, that Billy was wearing that fucking _smirk_ , and that if Homelander looked at him, he'd fuck his mouth. And this…really wasn't the time or the place.

Instead, he stood up, disregarding the piece of bread on the ground. Billy could wait to eat a few more minutes.

"Come with me," Homelander growled, grabbing Maeve's arm. He could see her wince slightly, a bit of fear entering her eyes. Even if she didn't often act like it, Maeve and her body remembered what it was like to feel Homelander's hands on her in anger. She remembered the pain Homelander could cause her if he wanted to.

He pulled Maeve with him away from Billy, to where no one could hear them. He could see The Deep, A-Train and Starlight watching them nervously. They didn't like to see Daddy and Mommy fight.

"Since when," Homelander hissed, "Are you allowed to question my decisions, hmm?"

"I'm not-"

"Don't fucking lie to me," Homelander shook Maeve hard enough to make her teeth chatter together. "You're not good enough at lying for that."

"I'm not-I'm not trying to tell you what to do," Maeve tried to explain herself. "I told you. I just don't _understand_ , that's all."

Homelander frowned, "You weren't like this when we took in Starlight, Deep or any of the others. Why-"

"None of them were still fighting like this three months in," Maeve snapped, pulling herself up straighter. Homelander had to admire her bravery. Only a few years ago, she'd had cowered into a corner at the first sight of Homelander's displeasure. "He's endangering us."

"What, you think that if he wasn't with us, sheriffs and idiots would just ignore us? We're the most wanted gang in the West."

"But before this man joined us, we've been able to fly under the radar a bit more," Maeve insisted. "You know that. Not everyone recognizes us, not everyone wants to engage us. But when we try to walk into a bar and The Butcher starts screaming about who we are, it makes it absolutely impossible for a shootout _not_ to break out."

Homelander rubbed his face. She wasn't wrong. A-Train had gotten his shoulder shot a few weeks earlier, after Billy had managed to escape from his bonds and somehow got a gun. Homelander had broken A-Train's arm for nearly letting Billy escape. The point still stood, though. If he'd left Billy behind or killed him, A-Train wouldn't have been hurt. He did make their lives harder; he did make it harder to slip in and out of towns.

He turned slightly and looked at Billy, who was watching them with a tilted head. Maybe Maeve was right? Was this man really worth all the pain he was giving Homelander?

But then he caught sight of Billy's long, beautiful throat. It had a scar there, now. A scar in the shape of Homelander's mouth, where he'd bite him so hard he swore that he could feel bone. Billy was beautiful, he was fierce and furious and perfect. Yes, he was worth it. His tight, warm body was worth it. The growling sounds he made when Homelander fucked deep inside of him were worth it. The way his eyes lit up with fire whenever he thought he saw an opening to escape was worth it. Every inch of his body, every thought that went through his mind. They all made him worth it.

And there was no way that Homelander was ever, _ever_ letting him go.

"Maeve," Homelander whispered into her ear. "You suggest that again, and you'll end up dead in a ditch, your breasts cut, clear?"

"Clear," Maeve was smart enough to say.

"Good, then," Homelander shoved Maeve slightly away, moving towards Billy. He needed to feed him.


End file.
